Living in a Moment
by Jazzcat
Summary: As Violar adjusts to life at Xavier's, she becomes an integral part of the family called the X-Men. Set after Fire and Rain.
1. Alone

I'll never forget the day I first saw Julian Rodriguez.

I was buried deep in a textbook on American geography. It was a terrific struggle for me to get through, due to laboriously-written and highly complex material. Somewhere in the middle of recounting Lewis and Clark's arduous journey west of the Rocky Mountains, I heard a car drive up to the front gates of the mansion.

We often received visitors, and I was always curious about them. But when I rose and went to my second-story window, I found a young olive-skinned boy no more than twelve years old climbing out of a yellow taxicab, holding a stuffed gray rabbit by the ears. He went around to the trunk and struggled to heft a large, oversized suitcase to the ground. When he finished, the taxi drove away and left the little waif on our doorstep, still clutching his rabbit.

A cold shiver ran down my spine. Could it be true? Was this boy really... alone?

Whirling, I raced out of my room and down the hall, then leaped down the stairs as fast as possible. Miraculously I made it without tripping on my skirt, and I dashed through the mansion towards the entryway. I threw open the front door and stopped on the porch, breathless. Our driveway was empty.

Bewildered, I embarked on a thorough search of the front yard - peering behind neatly-clipped hedges and the trees that landscaped Xavier's property. I turned up nothing at all. With a puzzled frown, I went back into the mansion and took care to close the door before I wandered down the long hall. I looked into each room I passed. I checked every closed door - most of which were locked. By the time I arrived at the doors of the chapel on the other side of the mansion - which was also empty - I decided to give up the chase.

But not without dropping off a note in the Professor's office first. I worried about the young boy with the oversized suitcase. The office was vacant, so I stepped inside, found a piece of blank paper, and borrowed one of his pens to scribble a note.

_Dear Professor,_

_Just this afternoon, I witnessed a taxi drop off a young boy with a big suitcase. He had dark hair and olive skin, and he was holding a stuffed rabbit. I went down to find him, but he'd vanished - which I thought was rather peculiar. I couldn't find him anywhere._

_It might be nothing, but I thought that perhaps you should know about this strange occurrence. If I can be of further assistance in this matter, please contact me._

_Violar_

I left the note on Xavier's desk, returned to the library, and nearly forgot the incident. The lengthy account of Lewis and Clark's exploration west of the Rocky Mountains pushed the little boy right out of my mind, until my concentration was interrupted by the intrusion of Jenna in the library.

Jenna was a 14-year-old brunette tomboy with a bossy personality, and there was something about her blunt forcefulness that I couldn't resist - in an admiring, indulgent way. Lately, the mood monster had gotten a firm grip on her, and she'd become a little dark thundercloud disguised as a skinny teenage girl. She headed straight for a chair at my table without looking at me.

"I'm hungry," she announced without preamble.

I raised my eyebrows. "Really." I sat back, studying her with a cryptic smile.

"Yup. Lots of us are." She plopped down in her chair and sprawled her long arms across the table, resting her chin on the cool wood and staring up at a bookshelf. "Gabriel cheated in tag again, but I made him stay 'it' longer until he promised to quit."

I chuckled, imagining what the scene must have looked like: Fiery, lanky Jenna squaring off against quiet, blond Gabriel, who was easily two years older than she was. Often, when Jenna was around, I'd seen Gabriel give Jenna a bewildered, wary look - exactly the kind of look a gentle old gelding would give to an unpredictable creature that had him spooked and completely baffled. Poor steady Gabriel didn't have a clue what to do with a fierce slip of a girl like Jenna.

"So, um, he quit, right?"

From underneath the table, I could hear Jenna's tennis shoe banging against a metal chair leg. "Yup. Now we're hungry."

And just like that, we were back at square one. I laughed and arched my spine to get the kinks out of it. "And what do you expect me to do about that?" I wondered pointedly, but I was smiling.

The question caught Jenna off guard. She started and stared at me for the first time, brushing unruly locks of dark hair out of her blue eyes.

"Make something?" she hazarded.

My eyebrows lifted further. "To eat?"

"Yup." She went back to kicking the chair leg.

"Please?"

She frowned at me. "That's what I meant."

"But you didn't say it," I replied as I rose from my chair. "It's polite and mannerly, when you ask someone to do something for you, to say 'please'."

Jenna gave the chair leg a harder kick and slumped with a sullen expression. "I know. I forgot."

"I know that too, but it wouldn't hurt you to apologize," I pointed out, running my fingers through her hair.

Jenna shook her head impatiently, but before she could entirely retreat out of my reach, I captured her face in my hands and brought her blue eyes to mine in a steady gaze.

"Start over, Jenna," I encouraged softly - but firmly. I wasn't giving her an option.

She huffed an aggravated sigh, rolled her eyes, and gave me a little scowl. "Can you make us lunch, please?" The request was less than gracious.

Smiling, I released her. "I'd be happy to. That was better, Jenna."

The girl slouched in her chair, and the metal clanged loudly under the irreverent blows from her agitated foot. "I don't see the point. I said the same stuff."

I chuckled, motioning her to follow me. "That you did, little urchin. One of these days, I'm going to dress you in a centaur suit and wear an outfit that looks like one of yours, and we'll reverse places. You can be me and I'll be you, and I'll pop up out of nowhere and make demands. Then you can see what it's like to be bossed around all the time."

Frowning, Jenna shuffled out of the library in my shadow with her hands stuffed in the pockets of her jeans. "I don't boss. I just tell people what has to be done."

"No, you tell them what you want and expect them to drop everything and do it," said I. "But that's not the way the world works, and everyone else has an important life with important things to be done, too. If you're going to interrupt someone else's life with the needs of your own life, then you need to ask politely."

Jenna scuffed her shoes on the wooden floor. "Yeah, well, what's polite about the word 'please'? 'Cause it's just a word."

"You're right, it's not the word. It's the demeanor with which it's spoken. I'll prove that to you later." Reaching over, I chucked the moody little girl under the chin. "Cheer up, little one. I'll be delighted to teach you all about charm."

Jenna sighed again, but I saw one corner of her mouth quirk as she grudgingly accepted that. "Fine. I wish you wouldn't call me 'little one,' though. I mean, I'm fourteen, for goodness sakes."

I laughed at her grumbling. "Jenna, I mean no disrespect by it. My mother called me by that very affectionate nickname until I was thirty-two."

She wrinkled her nose, then stared up at me. "Thirty-two? Weren't you kind of old to be called 'little one'?"

A startled chuckle escaped my throat. "Did you just call me old?"

Her eyes widened, and a brief flash of chagrin ignited her blue eyes. "No, I mean... not really. That's not quite what I–"

"Because I'm not old," I interrupted her with a mischievous grin, arching my eyebrows. "Just because I'm forty-five doesn't make me old, does it?"

Her blue eyes blinked even wider with shock. "You're forty-five years old?"

"You DID call me old!" I rounded on her in the middle of the hallway in playful indignation, and she gasped. I had her full attention now, and such a rush of butterflies invaded my stomach that I was almost insane with giddiness. "Do you know what happens to people who call me old?"

Jenna's mouth dropped open. Her eyes darted to one side, then came back to me with a new and more respectful expression - as if she'd just remembered that, despite my small and unspectacular humanoid appearance, I was actually a dangerous warrior centaur from another world.

"Um..." She gulped. "Uh... no."

The low laugh that bubbled in my throat was decidedly wicked as I leaned over her. "You want to find out?"

"No!" Jenna gasped suddenly, backpedaling. "That's okay! I mean... I'm sorry I called you old."

I laughed again. "Impressive apology, Jenna. There's just one problem." I grinned sideways at her. "You really do think forty-five is old."

Jenna was beginning to look worried. "Well... kind of. I mean maybe a little," she mumbled with a shrug. "But you don't look old."

I giggled. "I should hope not! I can be as much of a kid as you, and I'll prove it. Race you!"

I whirled and bolted down the hall, holding a fistful of skirt in one hand and laughing like a foal gone mad. With a startled shriek, Jenna gave chase, and we ran through the mansion halls like a couple of teenage girls who'd lost their minds.

Because we were.

"I'm gonna beat you I'm gonna beat you I'm gonna eat all the food!" I chanted breathlessly, giggling.

"Awwwaaaah!" squealed Jenna from somewhere behind me.

We dashed into the kitchen - I got there first because I'd had the head start - and by then, Jenna was the laughing, rosy-cheeked creature I knew she could be if she'd stop brooding. We raided the fridge, and I made some huge ham sandwiches while Jenna found chips and soda in the pantry. I fixed plenty of sandwiches, because - as I'd suspected - we weren't alone in the kitchen for long. The mutant children may have enhanced senses of smell, because any whiff of food would bring them all into the kitchen like flies. At least I'd been at the mansion long enough to expect it.

I served Gabriel and six other children, and they were happily munching at the table by the time I fixed my own plate and sat down to join them. Gabriel offered me a smile and a nod of gratitude, communicating mostly with his expressive eyes, then darted a nervous glance at Jenna and dove face-first into his sandwich.

My greedy stomach grumbled as I picked up my own sandwich, which was piled with three kinds of meat - roast beef, ham, and turkey - and thick layers of tomatoes, lettuce, pickles and cheese. I opened my mouth, but just before I took my first bite...

_Violar._

I dropped my sandwich onto the plate, splattering lettuce and tomatoes everywhere. Someone had called my name - inside my own head.

"Violar, are you okay?"

I looked up at Gabriel, who was eyeing me with concern. I brushed a hand over one temple.

"Oh... yes, I'm fine..."

_Violar, can you hear me?_

I gulped. _Yes, Professor. I'm sorry, I was in the middle of lunch._

It wasn't a new thing - the way Professor Xavier contacted me telepathically. But it unnerved me every time. I felt like a crazy centaur when a voice spoke to me in my head from out of nowhere.

_Ah, forgive me for interrupting, then. I just received your note. You know, you can always contact me in this manner, if you wish. As long as I'm on the premises, I should be able to hear telepathic messages and respond immediately._

_I keep forgetting about that,_ I replied with a soft chuckle. My glazed vision focused on Gabriel, who gave me a worried look. The other children were watching me.

"Sorry, it's the Professor," I explained. At once, all eight children understood and returned to their sandwiches.

I sat back in my chair, cast a sad glance at my lonely sandwich, and returned to my thoughts. _Did you find the boy?_

_Yes, unfortunately._ The Professor sounded more tired than usual. _He was delivered to us by his parents. I received a phone call a few hours prior to his arrival._

_So... the boy is a mutant, then?_

_Yes. More accurately, he will be a mutant._

I frowned. _Why did his parents leave him with us?_

_I'm getting to that, but let me start at the beginning, Violar. The boy's name is Julian Rodriguez, and he's twelve years old. During a routine medical checkup, the doctors were a bit concerned that he might have a certain health issue. From what I understand, this prompted them to take a blood test. While looking for something else, they discovered that the boy has the mutant gene. His parents... were not pleased._

I shut my eyes and sat back in my chair as a whirl of emotion welled up inside of me. _Don't tell me..._

_You guessed it. He no longer has a family. For all intents and purposes, Julian Rodriguez is an orphan._


	2. Butterfly

I propped my elbows on the table and hid my face in my hands. It was not the first time I'd heard such a story, but that only made my heartache worse. Many of the mutants had been abandoned or rejected by their families, to various degrees. Most of them had been very young - around Julian's age. But one so young...

What kind of world did we live in? Would things ever change? Here in New York - in the entire country of America, in this planet called Earth - were the maternal and paternal instincts broken so easily?

A sniffle escaped me before I could catch it, and I quickly lowered my hands, mustering a smile for the children.

"I'm sorry," I told them quietly, swallowing hard. "Everything is fine. I'll be back as soon as possible, but please, finish your lunch without me. Then you all need to finish your homework, if you haven't done so yet. If you have, go watch a movie in the common room. Alright?"

"Yes, Violar," said several of them together - including the normally quiet Gabriel and the often moody Jenna, whose blue eyes reflected concern on my behalf.

I smiled softly, touched by her care. I patted her shoulder as I rose and exited the kitchen.

_What kind of powers does he have, Professor?_ I wondered, continuing our mental conversation once I was out in the hall. _Was it something destructive that caused his parents to send him to us? Or something ugly?_

I could have sworn I heard the Professor sigh. _We don't know what Julian is capable of yet, Violar. All we know is that he carries the mutant gene, and he will have some kind of power - once he reaches puberty. Which he hasn't._

I closed my eyes, trying to imagine what the poor boy was going through. I was sure I failed in my attempt. _Where is he now?_

_Ororo settled him in a room. She asked if he wanted a roommate, but he declined and chose to stay by himself. Ororo said he was quiet - resigned to his fate. But I sense more than that bubbling beneath the surface. I think it would be best if someone talked to him... tried to befriend him._

A slight, wry smile tweaked the corner of my mouth. _Did you have someone in mind?_

_Are you doing anything else this evening?_

_Where exactly is the boy's room located?_

Xavier gave me directions. With a few more polite thoughts, I took my mental leave of the Professor, and my head went mercifully silent. In that silence, however, I was more keenly aware of how much the story of this young boy was hurting my heart. I composed myself, then returned to the kitchen - which was abandoned. The children were gone, and the empty plates were stacked in the sink. My plate with a half-askew sandwich sat alone on the table.

I took just enough time to gobble the sandwich down, wash the plates and load them into the dishwasher, and raid the pantry. Armed with a basket of wonderful things that no boy could resist - human, mutant, or otherwise - I marched down the hall, up the staircase, and along a carpeted hall lined with closed doors. I stopped before the appointed door and hesitated long enough to compose myself.

Then I lifted my hand and knocked. "Julian?"

There was no answer. I tried again. "Julian, are you in here?"

Again, no answer. A vague fear surfaced.

_Professor, I'm outside his door, but he's not answering. Is he sleeping, do you think?_

There was a pause. _No, I doubt it. Wait a moment._

A second later, the doorknob clicked. I marveled at the Professor's power.

_Go on in,_ he encouraged.

I twisted the doorknob and stepped inside, glancing first at the bed. But Julian wasn't sleeping, nor had the bed been slept in. The blankets were untouched and unwrinkled. A quick glance around revealed the large suitcase I'd seen in the driveway, but it hadn't been unpacked yet.

"Julian?" I called softly, moving deeper into the room. I knocked on the bathroom door, and when I received no response, I opened the door and peered in. Empty.

_Professor, I can't find him! Did he escape?_

Another pause. _No, I still feel his presence. And he seems to be aware of you._

I frowned. That meant he was close by. "Julian? Julian, where are you?"

The slightest noise sent my gaze skidding to the closet. Silently thanking Aslan for my keen centaur hearing, I stepped toward the door and, very slowly and quietly, I opened it.

At once I found the boy, huddled up in the corner and clutching a stuffed gray rabbit. He peered up at me with large brown eyes beneath a thick mop of black hair, looking exactly like a lost puppy and a cornered animal in the empty closet.

"Hi," I breathed softly, adding a quick thought to the Professor to let him know that I'd found the boy. I knelt down in the carpet with a gentle smile and set my basket next to me. "My name is Violar. Are you Julian?"

He pulled the rabbit closer - I could see now that the stuffed animal was thoroughly worn from years of love - and stared at me with real terror in his eyes. It was slow to fade, even at my innocuous question, and he tentatively nodded.

I smiled again, then sat on my heels and reached into the basket. "How would you like something to eat? I brought chocolate, if you like it. Where I come from, we don't have any chocolate. Can you imagine a world without chocolate?"

I held out my hands with an assortment of chocolate snacks: Star Crunch, Twinkies, cream-filled Swiss Rolls, and plastic-wrapped brownies. "I have more where these came from," I prattled on in a very soft tone of voice, as if I were speaking to a frightened baby animal. I set my offering on the floor and reached for a handful of individually-wrapped chocolates. "See? Milky Way, Snickers, Butterfinger, Three Musketeers - only the best, and they're all here. In fact, I think I shall help myself to a Milky Way just now. I love all of these, but I can't resist Milky Ways."

Adding my handful of chocolates to the pile, I unwrapped a bite-sized Milky Way square and popped it in my mouth, munching the chewy goodness with obvious satisfaction. "Mmm... delicious. I like them better than the dark Milky Ways, but I haven't tried the white chocolate ones yet, and I love white chocolate. Do you have a favorite kind of chocolate?"

I smiled hopefully at Julian, but he hugged his rabbit close and regarded me warily. My Danger Sense told me that he wished I'd go away. That didn't surprise me: I was a stranger, and I'd invaded his room and found his hiding place. But I hoped that a friendly smile and warm conversation and chocolate would atone for my behavior.

"Or do you just like them all?" My eyes twinkled, and I thought I caught a smile from the boy before he bashfully buried his face in the rabbit's fur. I laughed softly. "That is so wise. Never have a favorite when it's all good."

This time, when Julian managed to look up at me, he did smile. I chuckled softly, then shifted around to align myself in his direction - with my back to the closet, facing outward into his room. I plucked another chocolate from the pile to nibble companionably and, hopefully, encourage his response.

Few things make a boy jealous faster than watching someone else eat his chocolate.

"Does your rabbit have a name?" I wondered then, smiling briefly at him - then looking away to avoid staring him down.

A small throat cleared beside me, and then a quiet voice replied, "Skittles."

"Skittles!" I couldn't hide my surprise. "What a delightful name. Let's feed him his favorite food, shall we?" Leaning forward, I reached into the basket and pulled out a bright red package of Skittles.

But Julian shook his head emphatically. "He doesn't like Skittles. He likes..."

There was a pause, and Julian hesitated, thinking.

"Yes?" I prodded gently.

"Pop Tarts."

I giggled, then pulled forth a package from the magic basket. "Strawberry Pop Tarts with strawberry frosting - absolutely amazing, but make sure he doesn't eat too much or he'll get a stomachache. And how does Skittles feel about gummy worms?"

"He only likes Pop Tarts," Julian confided. "But I like gummy bears more than gummy worms."

"Ah," said I with a sheepish chuckle. "I didn't bring gummy bears. I have a good friend whom I could steal them from, though, if you'd like to come along."

Julian shot me a wary look, and I hastily backtracked. "I don't really mean stealing them from him. It's a pleasant joke. I make sure Kurt - that's my friend's name - I make sure Kurt is well-stocked with everything from gummy worms and gummy bears to gummy fish, and he adds to the supply. We are both very fond of them, you see. So the stash belongs to both of us, and we steal from each other for the fun of it. But we never leave the stash empty."

Julian's face relaxed, and I breathed an inward sigh of relief. I would have to be more careful than that until he had a chance to know me. I smiled at him, then scooted backward until I was sitting fully in the closet.

"This is a nice closet - perfect for hiding in. Would you mind if I joined you?"

Julian rested his cheek against Skittles' fur, then busily opened the Pop Tarts for his rabbit. He liked to take care of something or someone besides himself, I observed. "Okay," came his mumbled reply.

"Here, let help you." I reached over and tugged at the paper packaging, though I let Julian do most of the work. "Just nip off a corner and give it to Skittles. I think your rabbit has excellent tastes, by the way. The strawberry Pop Tarts are the best."

That made him smile. "He likes strawberries - same as me. They're the same color as my–"

His breath caught with a gasp, and his eyes welled with tears before he could stop them. Pain stabbed through my Danger Sense - a pain I recognized all too well. In an instant, I picked up his small body and cradled him against me, rocking him back and forth and whispering gently in his ear.

"I've got you, sweetheart," I murmured, resting my cheek against his temple as my own eyes flooded over. "It's alright... I've got you..."

Julian didn't have much resistance under my gentle soothing. His emotions gave way, and deep, wracking sobs shook his little frame. Such pain wrenched my heart that I cried with him, stroking his thick hair and holding him close.

I rubbed his back as his tears began to run dry. "I have you, Julian. You're safe with us now, I promise you. When you're ready, talk to me..." I sniffed. "Tell me... tell me about the strawberries..."

It was awhile before Julian could speak. "My mom's... hair," he said finally. "They said... they called it... strawberry. I thought it was... more orange... but they said strawberry over and over."

I kissed his forehead. "You were probably right," I whispered with a delicate smile.

I felt his hands tighten on the back of my blouse. "I don't wanna be a mutant," he said plaintively. "I just wanna go home. I want my mommy..."

I burst into tears and nosed into his hair, trying desperately to keep my composure. "Julian," I whispered huskily. "I'll take care of you, little one."

Julian shook his head. "I just want my mommy. Can't the doctor fix this? I don't wanna be a mutant. He said... he said I'm not one yet. Maybe, if I try real hard, and I be real good, I can stay normal."

Every soft, pitiful word was killing me. I gripped the little boy tightly and rubbed his back, struggling not to drown. "You _are_ normal, Julian," I choked. "Being a mutant is... a gift."

"That's not what my mommy said," Julian insisted, as if I were the one who didn't understand. "My mommy said mutants are monsters, like the kind that hide under my bed. I don't wanna be a monster and live under the bed. It's dark under the bed, and I'm scared of the dark. The doctor told my mommy that I'm going to be a mutant, and she screamed at me and looked at me like... like..."

Sniffles overwhelmed him, and I rubbed his shoulders. "Shhh," I soothed, scowling in agony over the top of his head. "It's going to get better now."

Julian shook his head emphatically. "My mommy didn't want me no more. I heard her tell my daddy that sometimes mutants kill their mommies and daddies. I don't want to kill her... I love my mommy. She didn't want a monster in her house, so she sent me here, to live with other monsters. I'm scared of the monsters... Maybe, if I hide in here, they won't find me."

My tears soaked into his hair. "Come, sweetheart, dry your eyes," I whispered, offering him my sleeve for a handkerchief. I stroked his cheek with the backs of my fingers while he rubbed his eyes and nose on my sleeve. "There are no monsters here, trust me. I've lived here for several months, and I haven't seen any monsters - just some people who look a little unusual. But let me ask you something. Do you like me, Julian?"

He pulled his head back, surprised by my question, and stared up at me with eyes like liquid chocolate. I smiled softly at him. Julian Rodriguez was adorable.

"Yes," he said finally.

My soft smile faded a little. "Thank you, Julian. But there is something about me that you should know." My voice dropped to a whisper, and I hesitated. "I am... a mutant."

His eyes widened with shock and fear, and he scrambled out of my embrace. I let him go, and he huddled up in the corner, staring at me as if he expected me to eat him.

I looked away, wiping my damp cheeks with the back of my hand. "I'm not going to hurt you, Julian. I promise, I'm not going to hurt you. I... I brought you chocolate, and I even fed Skittles. Is Skittles afraid of me?"

When I ventured to look at the boy again, I found him studying me with a quizzical expression. Some of the fear had gone out of his eyes, and I was relieved when he spoke. "You don't... look strange. Are you really a monster?"

I shook my head. "Not a monster, Julian. Just a mutant. Can I ask you something?"

Julian shrugged and pulled his rabbit close, as if for security. "I guess so."

"Does Skittles like horses?"

Julian looked down into his rabbit's stuffed face. "I don't know. I guess so."

"What about you?" I wondered more softly. "Do you like horses?"

Julian thought that over, then nodded.

"Have you ever gotten to pet one?" I ventured, trying my best to ease Julian into this.

"One time, I got to pet a pony," he answered.

"Was it a boy or a girl?"

"A girl."

"What color was she?"

"Well..." Julian hesitated. "The color of my mommy's hair. Strawberry, I guess."

My heart twisted up, and I swallowed hard. "That color on a horse is called chestnut. Sometimes sorrel, depending on the exact shade of reddish fur."

"Sorrel." That made him laugh. "That's a funny name."

I smiled. "Was she soft?"

"Oh yes, very soft."

I sighed deeply, relieved that Julian had warmed towards me so quickly after finding that I was one of the "monsters" - one of the mutants he feared so much. But the sooner he knew the truth, the better.

"How would you like to pet one now?"

His eyes widened. "You have horses here?"

"Yes, we do - real horses," I replied. "I'll take you out to the stables so you can meet them later, if you like. And we have a few ponies, too." His whole body radiated eagerness, and I chuckled - though I was serious. "But right now, I'm not talking about petting a horse, exactly. Do you know what centaurs are?"

His brow furrowed. "No... well, yes, kind of. They look like people-horses."

I chuckled again, holding his gaze. "Exactly. Julian, I am a centaur."

He stared at me, then frowned. "You don't look like one."

I giggled. "Not right now, I don't. But if you come out of this closet with me, I'll show you. Will you come with me?"

Thoughts traveled swiftly behind Julian's brown eyes as he studied me. But finally he made up his mind and nodded, and a surge of admiration for the young boy's bravery swelled inside me as we crawled out of the closet together.

"Alright. I'm going to do a magic trick," I announced.

His eyes lit up. "I love magic tricks!"

I laughed and scooted away from Julian, making sure I had plenty of room behind me. "Do you really? Well, let's pretend this is a magic show, and I'm the magician." I drew myself up at my full sitting height, my legs folded beneath me, and I swept him a bow. "For this trick, I shall need some help from the audience. Any volunteers?"

Julian's hand shot up. "Pick me! Pick me!"

I picked him, of course. "Right then, young man, stand up here and face me. You see this jewel?"

I pulled down the collar of my blouse, revealing a sapphire choker sparkling at my throat. Julian stared at it, then nodded.

"This is a magic sapphire," I explained. "Come forward and press it."

Julian's gaze darted to my eyes, but the whole idea of a magic trick was too much for him to resist. He stepped close and touched the choker.

Immediately my body changed. My upper body grew taller as my burgundy skirt swept away from palomino fur. In the blink of an eye, I sat there as a centaur, my four legs tucked beneath me and my white tail switching gently against the floor.

Julian was knocked breathless. "Wow," he managed.

I beamed at him. "Do you like it?"

He could only nod. Reaching for his hand, I took it gently in mine and guided it to my equine shoulder. "My fur is very soft," I explained. "See for yourself."

Julian's small hand tentatively touched my shoulder, then lightly stroked the fur.

"Wow," he breathed again.

"Stroke downwards," I encouraged. "Only move with the grain of the fur. If you pet me like this–" I took his wrist and moved his hand upwards "–it doesn't feel as nice, because you're literally rubbing my fur the wrong way. See?"

"_Ci, senorita,_" he replied in Spanish, mistaking my final remark. Fortunately my friend Alisha had taught me rudimentary basics in Spanish, and I realized for the first time that Julian Rodriguez was of Mexican origin. Probably half-Mexican, I mused, since his mother had strawberry hair. But if his father was Mexican, that would explain Julian's dark looks and his last name - Rodriguez.

I was gratified beyond words when Julian knelt down beside me to continue petting my shoulder. I softened inside as the last of my concerns drifted away. He wasn't afraid of me.

"You see?" I asked softly. "I'm a mutant. I'm a centaur. And I would be more than happy to give you a ride... but not here, in your room. It's too small in here. I'm liable to run into the bookcase or trip over the bed."

That made him laugh, and I warmed all over. I reached over and ruffled his hair affectionately, but I didn't interrupt him as he smoothed my fur. He seemed to be taking in this strange new concept - me, as a mutant and a centaur. But he wasn't the first to be fascinated by me. Even the older mutants were curious about the varied members of their own species. Although I'd been born a centaur from another world, I still carried the mutant gene, and that made me a mutant - and the only mutant with centaurian attributes. So far.

Julian's brown eyes came up to mine. "So... how did you get to be a centaur? Did you get to pick?"

"I was born a centaur," I answered quietly. "I didn't get to choose who I was. Aslan - God - decided that for me."

"Do you like being a centaur?"

I smiled. "All the mutations have both good things and bad things, Julian. You learn to adapt. Whether you know it or not, who you are - with your mutation - is already inside of you, already alive and awake, but preparing to emerge. Even before a caterpillar crawls into a cocoon and changes into a winged butterfly, he is already a butterfly on the inside. A polliwog is already a frog, even before he grows his legs and comes out of the water. Julian, you're like a caterpillar right now, almost ready to become a butterfly."

The way Julian's eyes began to shine made my heart hurt. _Oh, Aslan, please don't let him turn into something awful - something he won't be able to look at in the mirror. Please..._

"But no more of that for now," I interrupted myself, smiling at the boy. "If you're finished petting my fur for the time being, I'll help you unpack. Then we'll get something to eat - more than just chocolate, I mean. I'll show you where my room is, and you can run to me anytime you need anything - anything at all. Do you like bedtime stories, Julian?"

He nodded hungrily. My eyes softened.

"Good, sweetheart. I'll read you a bedtime story. I promised you that I was going to take good care of you, and I mean to keep that promise. No matter what happens from now on, you'll always have me."

Julian stood up, a remarkably solemn look on his young face. Standing over me, with one hand resting on my human shoulder, he should have known that he looked like a king - a young king making a knight of a centaur.

"What can I call you?" he asked.

A little tremor ran through me, and I swallowed hard. "You can call me Violar, if you like," I offered, searching his eyes. "You can call me sister, or centaur, or the chocolate lady. Or you can call me... Mommy."

My heart squeezed, and the moment I had to wait while Julian considered my offer felt like an eternity. I saw him swallow hard, and I knew the request had hurt him. I looked up at him in silence, trying to wait, but I knew he could feel how I trembled.

"Mommy," he repeated. Then he came close and put his arms around my neck.

I wrapped him into my embrace and squeezed my eyes shut. Twin tears shot down my face as I held him tight.

"Welcome home, little butterfly," I whispered.


	3. The Enchanted Forest

"Violar, will you read me a bedtime story?"

I smiled at the boy tucked in bed, his arm around the neck of his worn rabbit companion. After dinner – which I'd brought to his room and shared with him – and a healthy dessert of ice cream and gummy bears, I'd made Julian take a shower and brush his teeth. Like most little boys his age, Julian didn't care about being clean. But he obeyed without complaint, and he certainly cleaned up nicely.

With one last smoothing of his rumpled quilt, I sat down beside him. "I'd be delighted, Julian," I replied, smiling. "You definitely came to the right place for a good bedtime story. Centaurs are well known for their excellent tales."

Julian wriggled under the warm covers and smiled back at me. "Can you put Skittles in the story?"

I chuckled and tweaked the stuffed rabbit's ear. "But of course. It wouldn't be fair to leave him out, would it?"

Julian shook his head, and I laughed softly as I moved away to pull the blue curtains over the dark windows and turn down the lights. Julian was afraid of the dark, so I had asked Ororo for five nightlights. They lit up all of Julian's available electrical sockets and provided plenty of illumination close to ground level. I'd also showed Julian how, at night, the mansion's main lights went off and a dim yellow glow filled the hallways from the emergency lighting system. That way, if Julian needed to, he could find his way to my room without facing the terrible prospect of an inky black hallway.

As always, I drew inspiration for my story from current events. A vague idea formed in my mind, and I embarked on the story – not entirely knowing where it would lead.

"Once upon a time, a young boy was lost in an enchanted forest."

I could tell, by the way Julian's dark eyes lit up, that I was off to a great start. I flushed with pleasure, then continued.

"It was a beautiful forest, but – as most enchanted forests are – it looked and felt different from ordinary forests. The trees grew huge tapered leaves of purple and blue, and enormous flowers of white pearl and diamond sparkled to attract butterflies–" I smiled faintly "–lost butterflies that were looking for homes. It was, in fact, a butterfly that drew the young boy into the forest in the first place. Such a gorgeous butterfly it was. What's your favorite color, Julian?"

He thought that over. "Red," he answered.

I nodded. "That was the color of this butterfly, which was bigger than both of the boy's hands put together. He was red as fire with black edges around his wings. The boy had never seen a butterfly that color, and he followed its wayward journey until he was hopelessly lost in the enchanted forest."

Julian worriedly gripped a handful of his quilt. "Was it dark out?"

I shook my head with a soft smile. "Not yet, Julian. It was afternoon, and the sun shone down on the beautiful trees and the bright flowers, and the grasses beneath the boy's feet were soft as swan's down and a dazzling shade of… orange."

Julian suddenly laughed. "Orange grass?"

I nodded with a serious expression. "Orange grass it was in this enchanted forest, and the ferns were lemon yellow. They waved their fronds in a friendly manner at the boy as he passed."

"So did he catch the butterfly?"

"I'm coming to that. The butterfly was drawn to the bright flowers, and he drank the most delicious nectar he'd ever sipped in his entire life. The deeper he flew into the enchanted forest, the more delicious the nectar became. The trees grew taller and the flowers were higher and further out of the boy's reach, and the butterfly whirled and sailed higher and higher in the sky until finally the boy lost sight of him altogether.

"'Now what will I do?' the boy wondered to himself. 'It will be dark soon, and I'm afraid of the dark.'"

Julian gulped.

"The boy tried to go back the way he'd come, but enchanted forests are far more difficult to leave than they are to wander into. He only became more lost. Finally, when he was too tired to walk any further, he sat down beside a silver pond to mull over his sad fate."

"What's mulling?" Julian interrupted.

"Oh, sorry. It means thinking."

Julian nodded and hugged his rabbit closer, staring at me with his large chocolate eyes.

"The boy was so hungry," I went on. "He was thirsty, too, and even the strange silvery water looked good to drink. Just as he knelt down on the bank – in a patch of orange grass," I reminded Julian, which made him grin, "a voice came out of the trees.

"'What are you doing in this forest?'

"The boy gasped in surprise and nearly toppled into the water. He whirled around and saw another boy about his own age, with red hair and blue eyes."

"Flame red hair?" wondered Julian.

"Ah, no, strawberry red," I clarified.

Julian was satisfied with that and continued strangling his rabbit.

"So the lost boy had to explain that he'd been following a butterfly and couldn't find his way back home. Now, here is the point in the story where I need to give these two boys names. Do you have any ideas? Let's start with the lost boy. What shall we call him?"

"Ummm…" Julian's face screwed up in thought.

I waited. When he came up with nothing, I prodded, "Do you have a middle name?"

"Damien," he said.

"Julian Damien Rodriguez. That's a very nice name," I complimented him. "Very well, the lost boy's name was Damien. For his chance companion, let's give him a really good name. Let's call him…" I grinned. "Skittles."

Julian laughed. The sound was music to my ears, and I patted the quilt over Julian's stomach affectionately.

"So Skittles said to Damien, 'You can't be out here after dark. Come and stay with me at my house.'

"'But can't you show me the way out of this forest?' wondered Damien anxiously.

"Skittles looked at Damien for a long moment. Finally he shook his head. 'Not tonight,' he answered unhappily. 'There are monsters that roam these woods at night. But you will be safe with me.'

"So Damien followed Skittles through deer trails in the woods until they came upon a little yellow and purple cottage tucked in a meadow full of…" I grinned. "Orange grass blooming with blue and green flowers. The inside of the cottage was simple, but clean and well-kept. There was a bed, perfectly made as if it were never slept in; and a little table with a wooden chair.

"Skittles set out a simple but delicious supper of plum pudding, blueberry muffins, and a banana cream pie for dessert. 'Plum puddings and blueberry muffins grow on trees here,' he explained as a very hungry Damien crammed down the food.

"'Where'd you get the pie?' asked Damien curiously.

"'Those grow amid the yellow ferns.'"

Julian seemed overawed at the thought of pies growing on ferns, and I grinned. I went back to weaving my tale.

"While Damien ate, Skittles kept an anxious eye on the window as the sun cast its last golden rays through the blue and purple trees. Just as the sun slipped below the horizon, Skittles stood up.

"'I must go,' he said abruptly.

"Damien looked surprised. 'But… you're not going to leave me here alone, are you?'

"Again, Skittles gave Damien a long look. 'No,' he replied at last. 'I will not be far.'

"'But aren't you afraid of the dark?' Damien persisted.

"Slowly, Skittles shook his head. 'I used to be. But not anymore. Now no more questions for tonight. Sleep in the bed, and I will see you in the morning.'

"Skittles left the cottage. Damien felt more alone than he'd ever felt in his entire life. He thought of the dark outside, of his lost home, of the monsters that wandered the enchanted forest by night. He worried about his new friend, facing these dangers all by himself. But he was so tired from walking all day that, when he finally crawled into bed, he fell asleep straightaway.

"When Damien awakened the next morning, Skittles was already at the table – just as he'd promised he would be. And there was a second wooden chair by the table. Skittles set out a fine breakfast of blueberry muffins and honey and unicorn's milk, and Damien ate until he was content.

"'Now,' said Damien, 'will you take me back to my village today?'

"Skittles looked sad, but he stood up and said, 'Follow me.'

"The two boys went out into the wide world and began to have adventures together, as young boys often do. In an enchanted forest, the adventures were far greater than those in ordinary forests. Skittles and Damien followed a silver stream that sang with a beautiful voice and churned up precious stones like sapphires, emeralds, diamonds, and rubies. There were so many of these stones, and they were of such extraordinary quality, that they were surely worth the ransom of a thousand kings."

"What does 'ransom' mean?" interrupted Julian, who'd been listening intently.

I laughed. "Well, little one, it means… it's complicated. In the days of kings, there were villains – er, bad guys – who would kidnap a king and get his friends to pay for his safe return. The money paid to the bad guys was called a ransom. Basically, a ransom is however much money a king is worth."

Julian nodded, but the puzzled furrow in his brow didn't vanish entirely.

I chuckled. "It was enough to make a thousand kings rich – let me put it that way." When Julian seemed to comprehend that explanation, I pressed on. "Damien and Skittles had other adventures, too. They found stout branches and engaged in a mock sword battle, which awakened two tigers that came roaring out of the blue bushes. Damien was frightened of the tigers at first, but the tigers were friendly with Skittles. They seemed to know him. The tigers let the boys ride on their backs, and the boys had jousting tournaments and races until the big cats were very tired. When the boys climbed off the tigers at last, the sun was low in the sky.

"'It's getting late,' noted Skittles. 'Come and stay another evening with me.'

"Damien didn't have much of a choice. They ate supper together. As he had the night before, Skittles excused himself at sunset and disappeared into the woods. Damien worried about him, then climbed into bed. Weary of the day's excitement, he fell sound asleep.

"The next morning, Skittles and Damien shared breakfast. Damien asked again to go home, and again Skittles looked sad and said, 'Follow me.' They went out into the great wide world and were caught up in another adventure almost immediately.

"The silver stream led to a silver river, where a small boy-sized galleon stood anchored near the shore. The boys climbed aboard, hoisted anchor, and sailed down the river. What sights they saw! The purple and blue trees, filled with pearl and diamond flowers and loaded with ripe muffins, overhung the riverbanks. Brightly-colored jewels tumbled in the wake of their ship.

"'What shall we name this ship?' asked Skittles presently as he manned the wheel.

"Damien peered through a golden spyglass he'd found in the captain's cabin, then glanced at a fancy golden compass which pointed, oddly enough, to the south instead of the north. 'Let us name it the _Butterfly,_' he decided."

Julian smiled. Clearly he liked my choice.

"Further down the stream, the sailors aboard the _Butterfly_ sighted a ship with black sails, flying a flag with a terrible symbol of a skull and bones. A pirate ship! Skittles and Damien were brave boys, and they hollered and charged after the pirate ship so fiercely that even the worst of the pirates leapt overboard and swam to shore, never to be seen again. The _Butterfly _captured the abandoned vessel, and the boys boarded her to see what they could find.

"What treasures they discovered! Marbles and jacks and those rubber bouncy balls filled the hold, along with strawberry Pop Tarts and gummy bears and even gummy sharks. I love gummy sharks," I sighed with a dreamy little laugh.

"Me too," agreed Julian, gazing at me in rapturous wonder.

"So the boys loaded the _Butterfly _with all the treasure and set the pirate ship adrift. By then, the afternoon was growing old. But two friendly wolves appeared out of the forest, and they seemed to know Skittles. The boys tied ropes around their necks and asked them to pull the _Butterfly_ back upstream, and the wolves obliged. They made it home just in time for another supper of blueberry muffins and lemon cream pie. This time, when Skittles rose from the table to leave the cottage, Damien protested.

"'You said there are monsters out there,' he pointed out. 'Would you not be safer here? We could take turns watching under the bed to make sure none of them come out when we're asleep.'"

Julian laughed, and I was glad of it. I smiled back at him, reaching over to stroke his raggedy rabbit's floppy ear.

"Skittles gave Damien that long, hard look again. The glint in his blue eyes bothered Damien just a little.

"'I cannot,' he said at last. 'But trust me when I say that there are no monsters under your bed. I made sure of that.'

"'Where do you go?' Damien persisted. 'Do you sleep out there, under the stars?'

"Skittles hesitated. 'No. I do not sleep at all,' he said. 'But it is for the best. Now go to bed, Damien. I cannot stay another minute.' And he slipped out into the twilight forest.

"On the third morning, after breakfast, Damien said to his companion, 'I do not want to stay in this forest any longer. I want to go home.'

"Skittles looked very disappointed, but he said, 'Follow me.' They left the cottage and wandered into the great wide world together.

"They came upon the tallest tree Damien had ever seen – or even imagined. Its leaves were ice blue and amber-gold, and red licorice grew in its branches."

Julian wriggled, eagerly strangling his rabbit. "I love red licorice."

"So do I," I responded promptly, grinning. "And this tree was chock full of red licorice sticks. The two boys ate all the licorice they could reach, then climbed into the lower branches and plucked all the licorice they could find and ate until they both were stuffed. Then Skittles looked up at the tree as it reached into the sky. The very top of the tree disappeared in the clouds.

"'I wonder how tall this tree really is,' he remarked suddenly. 'Shall we climb it and see?'

"Damien was a very curious boy, and he readily agreed. The boys scaled the tree together until they left the ground far behind. In the higher branches, the licorice sticks grew bigger and bigger until they were nearly the size of the boys themselves. Still they climbed until they were above the clouds, and do you know what they found there, in the very top of the tree?"

Julian's eyes widened. "No, what?"

"An eagle's nest! But these were no ordinary eagles. They were massive creatures – more like the size of small dragons. Their nest was bigger than the cottage the boys lived in and lined with the softest fur. Damien was frightened of the eagles, with their fierce yellow eyes and their huge talons, but they seemed to know Skittles and were friendly with him. They invited the boys to ride on their backs, and once the boys were sitting astride their feathered steeds, they took off flying into a world of puffy white clouds."

"Is it hard to ride an eagle?" asked Julian.

"Very," I replied gravely. "And not all eagles are friendly enough to let you ride on their backs. Fortunately for Damien and Skittles, these eagles were of the extraordinary variety – both willing and strong enough to carry the boys into the sky. They were also steady fliers who were very careful with their young passengers."

Julian nodded at that, and I lifted my eyes to the ceiling, letting the images in my mind take shape as the words come out.

"It was difficult to tell what was real and what was imaginary in the cloud world. You know how you can look into the sky and see a cloud that looks like a lion, or one that looks like a swan, or one that looks like a ship?" Julian nodded rapidly, and I smiled. "That's how it is when you're flying above the clouds, too. A herd of thundering white sky horses raced the eagles, and although the sky horses were swift and fleet as the wind, the eagles won. A white panther stalked a pure white lamb, and the boys veered their eagles to scare him off and save the little lamb. Two mighty white lions battled each other for supremacy of the sky until the eagles flew through their very hearts, scattering them into a million feathery wisps of nothing. The eagles dove through a huge white waterfall and rushed into the cloudy sea, rising and falling through the waves and playing among the white dolphins. They watched incredible galleons come out of the sea and sink again until the falling sun burned the tops of the cloud-waves a deep orange.

"The eagles wheeled down to their nests and landed, but they could not set the boys on the ground. Eagles of that great size are never seen on the earth below because they can't fit in the forest without crushing things. Unlike dragons, who don't care at all about what happens to the things they step on, eagles do our world a favor by staying in the realm of clouds. Damien and Skittles stuffed their pockets full of red licorice and climbed carefully down the tree, and they ran back to the cottage just in time to share another supper. Just as Skittles finished his last bite of lemon cream pie, he looked straight at Damien and spoke.

"'Tomorrow morning, you are going to ask me to take you home,' he said. He was right, of course. 'And these three days, I have deliberately detained you. I am an orphan, and I live alone in these woods. I have wished for a friend for a very long time. I have my animal friends, but it isn't the same as having another boy for a friend. I could not resist keeping you with me to share adventure and fun – just for three days. But if you ask me to take you home tomorrow, I give you my word: I will do it, and I will remember these three days for the rest of my life. If, however, you choose to stay here with me, I promise to keep you safe and to be your friend forever.'

"That gave Damien a lot to think about. He was silent as he stared down at his empty pie plate, occasionally licking up a stray crumb of graham cracker crust. Finally he looked up at Skittles and smiled.

"'I will stay with you,' he said.

"Skittles smiled back at him and rolled a blue marble across the table – straight into Damien's waiting hand. 'I'm happier than I can tell you,' he said, rising from his chair. 'Goodnight, my friend.'

"He slipped out the door as night fell, and Damien went to bed and fell into a deep, contented sleep."

I stopped there and sighed, almost as content and sleepy as my own story character. But Julian was staring at me with large eyes.

"That's not the end, is it?"

I smiled warmly at him and ran my fingers through his dark, damp hair. "It is – but only for tonight, Julian. For Damien and Skittles, that was only the beginning of their story."

"When will I get to hear the rest of it?"

With a soft laugh, I leaned over to kiss his forehead. "Perhaps as early as tomorrow," I answered as I rose. "But that is plenty of story for one night, don't you think?"

"No!"

I laughed at his emphatic response and brushed my fingers over his brown cheek. "If I tell you all the story tonight, then there will be no more story left over for tomorrow. We have to save some of it for later."

Julian pouted, clearly not happy with that, but – despite himself – he was getting sleepy. I rubbed the rabbit's head, then stepped away and headed for the door.

"Violar?"

His small voice stopped me. I looked back to find him peering over his quilt, crushing his rabbit close.

"What is it, Julian? Do you need something else?"

He chewed briefly at his lower lip. "Well… kind of. I was wondering if… if you could stay."

I smiled softly. Perhaps my story's hero had been a bit too brave, considering how fearful he was of shadows and of the unknown. I stepped away from the door and came deeper into the room.

"I tell you what I'll do," I replied, reaching for my choker. A gentle rush of energy swept through me as my small humanoid form was replaced by the heavier, more powerful body of an eight-foot palomino centaur. "Why don't I curl up on this rug and stay here until you fall asleep?"

Julian's luminous smile was answer enough.

The night outside the mansion was quiet as I buckled my legs and made myself comfortable on the rug, lying down and sitting upright in centaur-fashion: sphinx-like. I thumped my tail softly against the floor and sighed deeply, folding my legs closer to my palomino chest.

"Violar?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Night-night."

I smiled at the little voice in the dim room. "Goodnight, Julian."

I dozed off. The sky grew pale with morning light and crept through the windows before I climbed to my hooves again. I gazed for a long moment at Julian's peaceful face, marveling at the resiliency of youth in the face of extreme tragedy.

Then I left the room, closing the door softly behind me.


	4. Political Refugee

The Professor wasn't in the mansion the next morning.

I poked my head into his office and found his usual place behind the desk vacant. Then I remembered what he'd told me the day before, and I closed my eyes.

_Professor?_

There was no response.

I shoved away from the doorway, frowning. If the Professor wasn't in the mansion, it usually meant one of two things: He was off on a dangerous mission, or he was interviewing the parents of a child who was a candidate to attend our school. A mutant.

I was turning over this development in my mind when a blur of color shot out of an open doorway and blasted hard against my right side, knocking me off balance. All my instincts flared and I whirled, dropping into a defensive battle stance with bared teeth and balled fists to face my opponent.

Jenna stood there, staring at me with wide blue eyes.

"Jenna," I gasped, straightening up and smoothing my burgundy skirt to regain my dignity. "You, ah, caught me by surprise."

She frowned at me, then rolled her eyes. "That was the idea. I was _trying_ to sneak up on you."

"Congratulations. You succeeded. But now you know that you should never ambush a trained warrior."

She smirked at me. I reluctantly smirked back, though I was still a little irritated. I started off down the hall, and she fell into step beside me. Apparently I had a companion – one who had invited herself into my company. I couldn't say I entirely minded.

"Like, okay. So you've been totally not here since you went off after that new kid."

Surprised and caught off-guard, I glanced at Jenna with lifted eyebrows. She was almost glaring at me, her blue eyes full of accusation. My heart melted, and I reached over to press her shoulder – but briefly. Jenna was a teenager, and teenagers – especially angry teenagers – weren't terribly keen on displays of affection.

"I'm really sorry, Jenna. He's so new, and he's very alone and upset. There are a lot of things that are going to be totally different for him now. He's lost everything." I bit my lip and frowned thoughtfully at the floor as we walked. "I hardly know what to do for him. He's having such a rough time."

"Yeah, like the rest of us haven't," Jenna snapped.

Again I looked at her, startled. A pang of conscience struck my soul, and I stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned to face her.

"You're right, Jenna. I shouldn't have abandoned you that way. I didn't mean to… I just…" I took a deep breath and let my gaze drift away from the dark-haired girl, trying to frame my thoughts. "It's hard… it's really hard. His story hits rather close to home."

"That's what you said about _my_ story."

My gaze snapped into focus on Jenna's face. Jenna's parents had divorced about four years ago, and a short time after that, Jenna's mutation had developed. She felt as if her father had abandoned her, she'd confided to me during one of her rare vulnerable moments. Then her mother dropped her off at Xavier's. Her mother hadn't severed ties with Jenna completely, but she didn't exactly write every day, either.

It hurt me terribly to see the wild joy with which Jenna received those rare letters and postcards that came through the mail. I never told Jenna this – I didn't know how, nor was I sure whether it was a good thing to tell her – but it seemed to me as if Jenna's mother wrote more out of a sense of guilty responsibility than love.

I could have been wrong. I hoped I was wrong. I _wanted_ to be wrong. But there were letters instead of visits, occasional presents instead of hugs, and distance instead of loving care and nurturing and concern. Had Jenna – or any other mutant – been my child, I couldn't have left her in the care of complete strangers without at least checking on her and seeing to her well-being. Jenna had been at the mansion for a year and a half without seeing her mother at all.

Jenna was always a bundle of energy and exuberance, but those letters turned her into an absolute fireball. Gabriel stayed far away from her during those fits of running through the mansion and loud hollering. He didn't know what to do with Jenna on her good days, but when she had reason to be happy and turned into a little banshee, she scared the living daylights out of him.

Her father never wrote, and I believed that the letters from her mother meant even more to Jenna because of that. It kept her from feeling completely rejected. Jenna had even shown me the locked wooden chest she kept the letters in: Her mother wasn't tech-savvy, as Jenna put it, and she didn't use computers much – or write emails. All of her correspondence was old-fashioned – usually triple-folded pieces of paper filled with messy handwriting. She might as well have written to Jenna in code; the scrawls were very difficult for me to decipher. But Jenna could read them without any trouble.

"Well?" Jenna interrupted my muses. "Did you forget that or something?"

I felt my expression soften into a sympathetic smile. "By the mane, I haven't forgotten. But you're right. Jenna…" I crouched down to her level and looked straight into her eyes. "These first few days are going to be very delicate for Julian. Do you remember meeting some of your teachers for the first time? I'm sure they had to have been a little unsettling to you."

She made a face at me. "You mean, like, freaked me out?"

"Yes, that's a good way to put it."

"Who freaked me out?"

Jenna caught me by surprise – as usual. "Um… well, how about Storm?"

"Ha! No. I like her white eyes. She made a great big tornado and picked me up with it, and that was the _coolest_ thing."

I fought to keep a straight face. "I see. Well, how about Logan?"

Her face lit up. "Wolverine? His claws rock! They're kind of like mine, anyway."

I choked down a laugh and tried to look serious. "Of course. What about Kurt Wagner?"

She grinned at me, an oddly mischievous glint in her eyes. "I like his blue fur and the way he smells. I don't know why they call him Nightcrawler, though, because he crawls around in the daytime too. And nightcrawlers are fishing worms."

I smothered another laugh with a round of coughing. "You'll need to have a word with the person who named him, then."

"Who named him?" she demanded.

"I haven't the faintest idea, Jenna Newton." I smiled affectionately and ruffled her hair – because I couldn't help it. "He's probably somewhere in Germany. Bavaria."

She tolerated that for a few seconds, then ducked out of my reach. She frowned at me. "You're trying to change the subject, aren't you."

I blinked, surprised yet again. "Ah… no, no, actually I wasn't. What I was trying to say is that I wanted to introduce Xavier's to Julian a little bit at a time."

"Then why can't I visit him? I'm a 'little bit,' aren't I?"

Startled by the abrupt declaration, I stood in silence for half a minute before my tongue recovered from temporary paralysis. "Oh… yes, er, you certainly are… a little bit… at… a time." My eyes shifted away: I was thinking of Gabriel. Jenna was far too much for the quiet boy to handle, and there was no way to know how Julian would react to such a meeting. Even without revealing her mutation, Jenna could easily frighten him and his rabbit right back into the closet.

"Well then, what are you waiting for?"

She crossed her lanky arms and stared up at me with a fierce challenge in her eyes. I smiled to see it, and I tweaked her ponytail until she scowled and swatted indignantly at my hand.

"I'll take you for a short visit later, Jenna – if you promise not to show him your mutation."

She gaped at me. "What? What's wrong with my mutation?"

"Nothing," I replied a little defensively.

"I mean, what's _his_ mutation?" she demanded.

I saw my opening. "That's the thing. He doesn't _have_ a mutation yet. He's a mutant, because he tested positive for the mutant gene – like you and I did when they took blood samples."

"Yeah, and I didn't cry about the needle either," Jenna declared proudly.

I bit back a giggle. "My, how brave you are. As I was saying, Julian is still going to develop a mutation… much like you did a couple years ago, Wildcat."

I called her by the nickname she'd developed along with her mutation. It fit her personality also, I noted. I wondered how much a person's mutation also affected their instincts, shaping and defining who they were. It was like Angel being a bit of a daredevil, and he certainly wasn't afraid of heights. He'd always loved birds, had been enraptured by the idea of flight; and he loved the feel of wind in his blond hair.

I breathed a wistful sigh as my thoughts wandered to Angel, and the bittersweet swirl of emotion that surfaced every time I thought of him took possession of me. For the millionth time, I stomped it back down. I had no business feeling a sense of loss over him – or regret, or guilt, or lingering lovesickness. Whatever I saw in him, he didn't see anything in me. He didn't love me. I was a friend – nothing more. That had been proven beyond a shadow of a doubt. I had to accept that.

Why couldn't I just accept it and move on with my life?

"I mean, they're just claws," Jenna was saying.

I snapped back to the present. Jenna had been speaking, and I'd missed most of what she'd said. I tried to bring back some recollection of what she'd told me – and failed.

"What… what about your claws, Jenna? I'm sorry, I was thinking."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and the faintest glow illuminated her blue eyes beneath the shadows of her lowered black lashes. She huffed a longsuffering sigh. "I said, there's nothing scary about my mutation. If Julian isn't a little chicken, he should be able to handle it. I mean, they're just claws."

I shook my head with a wry grin. "And a bit of black fur," I pointed out. "And some whiskers, and don't forget the way your eyes glow in the dark."

"It isn't dark. My eyes look normal in the daytime."

"That's what you think, but you can't see your own eyes unless you're staring in a mirror. There are some small shifts… never mind, Jenna. It's not important. What is important, however, is that you listen to me. You will get to meet Julian very soon, but he needs to be settled down enough to receive visitors first. I'll be there as well to make sure the meeting goes smoothly – and to make sure you don't show off your feline self."

She gave me an annoyed look, then rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Where are you going?"

"I'm trying to track down the Professor. Where are you going?"

"To the kitchen. I'm hungry."

Without a polite farewell of any kind, Jenna turned on her heel and walked off. Her right hand curled into a fist and uncurled again, and each time her fingers rolled into her palm, her ordinary hand shifted into a black-furred paw with five sharp silvery claws. Then her humanoid fingers straightened again, and the black fur seemed to retreat into her skin until Jenna made another fist.

When Jenna was agitated, her mutation manifested itself.

I watched in fascination until Jenna turned the corner, and I was left alone in the hallway, feeling bemused and smiling. I'd observed the way cats kneaded their claws, like humans tended to rock back and forth to comfort themselves in times of distress or as a sign that they were feeling good. Jenna did seem to possess some very feline characteristics in her behavior.

Even the extremely independent way she came and went reminded me of most non-talking cats I'd come into contact with: Aloof and determined not to rely on people for anything, they only came close and interacted when they _felt_ like it.

I gave my head a little shake, then started toward the library. There were storybooks there – whole collections of classic fables and old tales from this world that I thought Julian might enjoy. I was even fascinated by the whimsical artwork, particularly the more realistic pictures. I hoped it would keep Julian company while I was out of his room.

I'd barely stepped through the doorway when my Danger Sense sparked to life.

I stopped in my tracks. Chilling uneasiness slithered through my chest, and I frowned at the sensation, taking a few steps backwards until I was in the hall again. The sensation didn't lessen: If anything, it had grown stronger.

Someone harboring ill will towards mutants had entered Xavier's Institute.

I followed my Danger Sense down the hall. A shiver rippled down my spine as I neared the main sitting room, which was conveniently located not far from the entryway. My keen ears picked up voices. I heard the Professor's deep timbre first, and a sense of calm enveloped me although my Danger Sense roiled. The Professor would know how to handle a potential threat.

Moving on silent tiptoe, I crept up to the doorway and pressed my back against the wall, catching smatterings of conversation.

"I assure you, chief administrator, that my reasons for requesting custody of Monica are not political." That was the Professor's voice. "What she needs now is a family."

"What makes you think you're capable of providing a suitable family environment for the child?" demanded a cold, hard male voice. It was an easy guess that this was the fellow the Professor had referred to as "chief administrator."

The Professor's patience was admirable. "We take in children on a regular basis, chief administrator."

"_Mutant_ children," the fellow pointed out contemptuously.

"With all due respect, there is no difference between mutant children and human children. The genetics—"

"I didn't come here to attend one of your science lectures, Professor Xavier." His condescending tone burned my blood and ignited my temper. "Your scientific theories are beside the point. You've applied for custody of the girl, and so far, you haven't provided me with a satisfactory reason _why_ I should give that any consideration. The approval process begins with me."

I dared to peer around the corner and found a thin weed of a man confronting the Professor, who sat calmly in a wheelchair with his fingertips pressed together – Sherlock Holmes style. The chief administrator wore an ill-fitting black suit, and his back was turned to me. I could see little more than the back of his baggy suit and a ring of graying brown hair encircling his shiny bald crown.

The Professor's chair was turned slightly in my direction, but if he were aware of my presence – and surely he had to be, with how sensitive his powers were – he didn't even glance my way.

My gaze shifted to the window – and stopped. I caught my breath. Perched on the window seat was a little blonde girl, no more than six or seven years old, wearing a green cotton dress. Sunlight reached through the window glass and caused stray curls of her blonde hair to glow a dazzling white. She sat perfectly straight with her hands clasped in her lap and her tiny ankles crossed, and she was looking out the window with an oddly serene and contemplative expression on her cherubic face.

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, and I couldn't breathe. She might as well have been a porcelain doll, dressed in that adorable outfit and holding completely still. Even with her entire future hanging in the balance, she looked like a little angel.

"And you claim that this institution is a family environment for an orphan," the chief administrator was saying, gripping the open flaps of his black suit jacket and rocking back on his long heels. "You run a school, Xavier – not an orphanage or a foster home."

The Professor gave the man a warm, sincere smile. "I run both, chief administrator. Many of the students here have nowhere else to go. If you care to look through our files, you'll find that the majority of children here at Xavier's are outcasts closed off from the rest of the world, and many of them no longer even have contact with their parents. They are, in essence, orphans."

The chief administrator scoffed. "That aside, how can you guarantee that the girl will have a good home here?"

"How can you guarantee that Monica will have a good home anywhere else? You know as well as I do that the orphanages are already crowded, and you know what the foster care system looks like."

I tore my eyes from the vision in the window seat and glanced at the thin man in the suit. A rise in my Danger Sense's temperature warned me that the chief administrator didn't take kindly to that comment at all. He aimed another jab at the Professor.

"At least a foster home would give her a mother and a father – something you cannot do. You would only be a father figure."

On impulse, I stepped through the doorway, carrying myself with a firm dignity. "Begging your pardon, chief administrator, but there are a number of good women at Xavier's who would make excellent motherly figures for Monica. I volunteer to be one of them."

The thin man wheeled and stared at me in fearful shock, as if he expected me to sprout porcupine quills or turn a trollish color of blue-green right in front of him. The Professor stared at me with lesser surprise in his eyes, but I felt no consternation from him over my interruption. Pressing my advantage, I boldly stepped up to the fellow and extended my hand with a warm smile reminiscent of the one the Professor had given him earlier.

"My name is Violar. A pleasure to meet you, chief administrator."

The fellow blinked at me, seemingly speechless. His dark brown eyes darted over my face from beneath bushy gray eyebrows. Finally he gathered himself enough to slip his hand into mine, and I shook it, trying not to grimace at the unhealthy, bony feeling of his long fingers and protruding knuckles.

"Ah, er, um… Call me Mr. Dunlop, ma'am," he stammered, quickly withdrawing my hand from mine and stepping backwards. My smile grew warmer; I was inwardly very pleased that I'd discomfited him. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "Are you… are you a um… a mutant?"

I never batted an eyelash. "Can't you tell the difference?"

Mr. Dunlop gulped again and looked me over, and I fought the tiny scowl that formed between my eyebrows under his measuring stare. He couldn't tell the difference, but he had too much pride – and prejudice – to admit it. And he didn't want to risk making a mistake. He backed further away from me.

I merely smiled at him. "Are you going to be much longer with this meeting, Mr. Dunlop?" I asked, purposely addressing him instead of the Professor. "I'd like to take Monica to the kitchen and give her something to eat, if you don't mind. It must be dreadfully dull for her, sitting alone in the window like that."

My gaze flicked to the little girl, and I found her looking at me with a strange intensity and a curious innocence in her bright green eyes. Then I brought my expectant gaze back to the chief inspector.

"Uh… no, that won't be necessary. I think I'm finished here," he said, taking another step backwards. He turned abruptly to Monica. "Come here. We're leaving."

She hopped obediently off the window seat and slipped her small, soft hand into the chief administrator's bony palm. Again she stared at me with unblinking, open curiosity.

The Professor kept his fingertips pressed together. He hadn't so much as changed his posture since I'd entered the room.

"Remember my offer, chief administrator," Xavier said, radiating calm.

Mr. Dunlop grunted and strode off with the little girl in tow. I smiled softly and gave Monica a little wave as the two left the room. The Professor and I were silent as we listened to their footsteps fade on the wooden floor. The door opened, then closed. I breathed a sigh of relief as my Danger Sense slowly untangled itself.

I turned to Xavier. "I'm terribly sorry if my interruption was a bad idea, sir. I couldn't stand there anymore and listen to—"

He cut me off with one of his broad, soul-warming grins and a deep chuckle. "You couldn't have come at a better time, dear. If I'd wanted you to stop, I'd have warned you." He lifted a forefinger and tapped his temple.

I smiled and blushed, ducking my head. I'd forgotten, again, what he was capable of.

"Thank you, Professor." I paused, then added, "Monica is a charming child. Watching her as she sat in the window nearly brought tears to my eyes."

Xavier slowly nodded. "She had a similar effect on me, Violar. Walk with me," he invited, wheeling towards the doorway.

I fell into step beside him. "Who is she? Why are you trying to adopt her?"

The Professor was silent for so long that I glanced sideways at him. I found an expression on his face I'd never seen before: Regret.

"The chief administrator was right. I do want to adopt her for political reasons," he said at last, pressing his fingertips together while his wheelchair rolled down the hallway all by itself. "A renegade mutant killed her parents. One of my sources told me about her case, and I decided to go and see her."

My heart wrenched. A mutant had killed her parents. She was an orphan… a very young orphan. The intense and innocent look in her emerald eyes haunted me.

"So you…" I had to clear my throat. "You applied to adopt her?"

A long silence stretched between us again before Xavier answered. "It wasn't my original intention. I only wanted to see this girl. But when I saw her, I couldn't… leave her there."

My heart wrenched further until my whole chest ached. "I understand," I whispered.

I couldn't say anything. Xavier made no further comment was we rolled down the hall and into his office. The door opened of its own accord, and I followed the Professor inside. I hardly noticed any of the things that usually fascinated me; my mind was whirling. I heard the door close behind me as I sank into one of the comfortable chairs situated before the Professor's desk.

I heard the wheelchair glide into place beside me, and then it stopped. We sat that way for a long time, and I sensed that I was not quite alone in my thoughts. Professor Xavier never pried into people's minds unless he had to, despite his ability to invade anytime he pleased. What I felt was more of a gentle probing, as if he wanted to know whether I was doing alright.

I closed my eyes and sighed. It was, unwittingly, an answer.

His warm, wrinkled hand covered mine. "Is it because she's an orphan, like you were?"

A knot lodged in my throat, and I shrugged halfheartedly and cast a glance in his general direction. "I don't know," I answered huskily. "Maybe."

It was too much of an effort to talk. My eyes drifted closed again, and I leaned my head on the back of the comfy chair as I switched to my thoughts. _Or it could be the fact that her parents were killed, like mine were._

I sensed the Professor nodding beside me. _I wondered._

My eyes came open. I lifted my head, then stared fixedly into the Professor's brown eyes. _There is something you're not telling me._

His gaze held mine for a long moment, and then – to my utter shock – his eyes slid away from mine. _Yes._

The Professor was a confident and powerful leader. The fact that _he'd_ looked away from _me_ shook something deep inside my core. _Will you… not tell me now?_

He pursed his lips tightly. I had my answer.

I nodded slightly, accepting that. I slid my hand out from beneath his and patted his fingers. _I trust your judgment, Professor._

He looked up at me again. _That is not easy for you._

This time, my gaze faltered first. _No, it isn't. That's the way it is with everyone who experiences hurt… and betrayal._

Faint wrinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Oddly enough, it was a look of admiration he bestowed upon me.

_You've no doubt heard the saying that courage is not the absence of fear, but the presence of fear and the willingness to press on in spite of it._ I nodded faintly, and he went on. _Overcoming betrayal and trusting again requires that kind of courage, dear. But I am – pardon the saying – only human, only mutant. I am fallible. I will make mistakes. But your trust is important to me, Violar. I may hurt you – unintentionally. I may keep things from you. But I will never betray you._

I gazed back at him, unflinching. _That is all you can do, Professor. I trust you._

This time, he couldn't hide his smile. It stretched into the open and crinkled the corners of his eyes, and my heart flooded over at the warm look he gave me. I couldn't help smiling back at him.

"Nevertheless," Xavier said aloud, "I am sorry that I'm not able to tell you more."

"Leaders sometimes have to make hard decisions like that," I replied. "Surely you have a good reason for it."

That same expression of regret crossed his face, and I wondered if he was thinking about Jean Grey. "I have reasons for it, yes. Let us hope those reasons are good enough."

He smiled at me again, and I recognized the more open look in his eyes as the look of one leader to another. I smiled, then ducked my head and bit my lip. I didn't know whether I was worthy to be considered an equal to Professor Charles Xavier, though it would have been deeply humbling and a great honor.

"Will you keep me posted about Monica, Professor?"

"If the adoption is officially approved, you'll be the first to know."

I warmed all over, and I gripped his hand between both of mine. "Thank you so much. I love her already."

After another of Professor Xavier's heart-melting smiles, I took my leave of him. As I was wandering down the hallway, it occurred to me that Xavier's smiles had such an impact because they were brimming with genuine emotion.

Most people – particularly leaders or folks who found themselves in a similar position to the one Charles Xavier currently occupied – would have kept their true feelings shielded. People who were often hurt locked themselves away: It was far safer to wear a mask. Aslan knew how much Xavier had been hurt in his pursuit of equal rights for mutants. Betrayal went with the territory: There were many mutants who had been through the Institute and turned renegade… or became outright criminals. St. John – Pyro – was one of them.

My jaw tightened. I wouldn't think of St. John now. It was far too nice an afternoon for that.

I headed for the kitchen to make a sandwich: My hungry centaur stomach was complaining furiously. I patted it gently, but it growled at me, reminding me a lot of Jenna. Chuckling, I arrived in the empty kitchen and set about making nine or ten sandwiches.

True to form, mutant children materialized out of nowhere. In no time at all, I had a merry little party at the table, and I sat down to join them with my own sandwich. Jenna wasn't there; she'd already eaten while I'd been talking with the Professor. But Gabriel and Alisha were both at the far end of the table, and they – like the other children – kept looking at me.

I smiled, set down my sandwich, and cleared my throat. "Since all of you are wondering, Julian Rodriguez is doing just fine, and I can't wait to introduce all of you to him. I'd hoped to give him a few days to adjust first, so please have patience. He's settling down very quickly, and I've tried to give him both some time alone and company when he needs it. But I haven't wanted to overwhelm him. I'm delighted that you all are so eager to meet him, though."

A hush had fallen over the table. Many of the children could strongly relate to what Julian was going through, and I was touched by their concern for him.

"Could we… give him a present?" Gabriel wondered.

I blinked, startled. "That's a great idea, Gabriel."

His green eyes lit up with a rare enthusiasm. "I could give him something from my model airplane collection."

"I could ask him what kind of costume he wants for Halloween," put in Alisha.

I warmed all over as the children came up with other gift ideas. One of the girls offered to bake cookies – and Alisha immediately volunteered to help. Another, who was particularly fond of art, wanted to paint Julian a picture of anything he liked. Two of the boys, a pair of redheaded twins who were very clever, said they'd be happy to go in and rig up his room with such inventions as a string that went all the way from the light switch to the bed.

"That's a good one," I encouraged, "because Julian is afraid of the dark."

Suddenly everyone was talking at once. Chairs screeched on the floor as the twins left to gather supplies. I stood up and addressed them all.

"Meet me here tomorrow," I suggested above the hubbub. "We'll iron out the details for our plan and get started – but just a little at a time."


	5. Sensitivity

I couldn't find Jenna anywhere. She was probably in her room, sulking.

But I didn't have time to go look for her. Dinner was a grandiose production that afternoon, and I spent a couple of hours with Alisha, putting together several pans of enchiladas.

Making authentic enchiladas were simpler than one might think. The sauce was the most complicated part of the process, especially since I had to make such a quantity of it. It was a delicious tomato-based sauce with chili powder, other herbs and spices, and a little oil. Then Alisha and I spread a spoonful of sauce on pre-made flour taco shells, followed by a thin layer of cooked and seasoned ground beef, cheddar cheese, chili beans, onions, and sliced olives. About twenty stuffed shells were rolled and placed in a greased glass Pyrex casserole dish, then stuck in the oven.

Twenty minutes later, an absolutely delicious Mexican dinner emerged. The spicy, mouthwatering aromas drew hungry mutants into the kitchen long before I officially announced that dinner was ready. Served with lettuce, sour cream, guacamole, and a little salsa, this incredible recipe had been a big hit from the first time I'd tried it.

I'd made it tonight on purpose, because I thought Julian might like it. His last name _was_ Rodriguez, after all.

Several extra pans of enchiladas went into the refrigerator to serve as quick and easy lunches for the following day. Meanwhile the kitchen became a busy place as the students formed a line around the kitchen island, where the enchiladas and the side ingredients I'd set out awaited them.

"Are ya gonna to eat at the table with us, Violar?"

I looked over at Rogue, who had just taken a plate from the stack at one end of the counter. I smiled back at her, then stepped aside and waved a hand at the tray I'd been fixing with two plates and two sets of silverware wrapped in napkins.

"I'd love to, Marie, but I already have plans to have dinner with someone else."

It was the wrong thing to tell Rogue. Her eyes lit up, and she swept a few gloved fingers through the white locks that framed either side of her face.

"Aha! Listen up, y'all! Vi got herself a hot date!"

Every gaze in the kitchen was suddenly on me, full of curious interest. A few whistles and coy murmurs of, "Oo!" filled the air. I flushed hotly and ducked my head, thoroughly embarrassed.

"I do not have a hot date," I protested quietly, staring at the floor. "I'm just… I'm just having dinner with a new kid here. His name is Julian, and he's only twelve years old."

The kitchen went suddenly silent. Smiles faded and the chatter died down. Eyes shifted away from me, and I caught vague expressions of hurt and disappointment as everyone grew absorbed in the food line once again.

Startled at the sudden departure of the festive atmosphere, I could only stand there in bewilderment as realization set in: They all knew who Julian was, and they knew I was spending a lot of time with him. But they hadn't been told anything more than that – by me or anyone else.

Even Gabriel was looking at me with a wary expression. He and a few of the other children had been in the kitchen for a lunch I'd made them earlier that afternoon, and there had been excitement in the air. Just a few hours ago, they'd been planning to help me surprise Julian with a number of presents. They harbored goodwill towards Julian, but something had happened since then, and now things were very wrong. It had something to do with me.

Had they misconstrued something I'd said?

My heart ached, and on impulse I moved forward, cut into line, and took up a new plate.

"Clearly, we need to talk," I said quietly to anyone who happened to be listening – which was everyone. "I'll stay for a short while and eat at the table. I wasn't aware that no one knew enough about this situation, but maybe there are some things I can clear up for you."

The dinner line resumed with a focused eagerness – though not necessarily a joyful one. People wanted to hear what I had to say. As I took a metal spatula and cut half an enchilada out of a glass dish, I tuned into my thoughts and contacted the Professor. I gave him a brief summary of what was going on.

_Is there anything I shouldn't tell them? I don't want to make Julian feel as if I've been talking about him behind his back._

There was a slight pause. I plucked a spoon from the sour cream and deftly shook a white glob of the stuff on top of my dinner.

_You don't have to go into as much detail about Julian as you did with me, dear. Other than that, you're welcome to share about Julian's background. They will understand better after they've heard the story._

I thanked the Professor and finished getting my meal together, complete with a generous helping of sliced Romaine lettuce. Once I was seated at the table, I held out my hands and briefly thanked Aslan for the food. Then I picked up my fork and looked at my waiting audience.

I took a deep breath and plunged in. "Julian is a young boy who tested positive for the mutant gene, though he his unique talents haven't manifested yet, whatever they are. His family cut ties with him. He's completely alone. Julian is remarkably skittish and shy, and I'm hoping to draw him out of his shell a little before I introduce all of you to him. You'll love him when you meet him," I added with a warm smile. "He's like the cute little brother you've always wanted."

Gabriel lowered his blond head and stared at his food, taking that in. Kitty absently played with a lock of her dark hair, phasing it through her fingers. Bobby focused on freezing his drink, one small degree at a time. Perched on a stool, Jay pressed his red wings firmly against his back and uttered a little sigh. Alisha, also known as Elastica for a reason, slowly extended her stretchy forearm without moving her upper arm until her fingers could touch the salt and pepper shakers in the middle of the table, then slowly withdrew again – which I found extraordinarily unsettling and a little creepy, though I didn't say anything. Only Marie gazed thoughtfully back at me.

"Are ya protectin' him from us?" she asked finally.

Everyone froze, dead silent.

My eyes lowered from Marie as my heart twisted up. So that was the problem.

"In a way, yes. I'm sorry about that, Marie – all of you," I added, meeting every pair of eyes around that table. "It's just that… right now… Julian needs a little time to adjust. From what Julian told me, his mother wanted nothing to do with him because, as she put it, her son was going to become a monster."

Forks clattered onto plates and gasps filtered around the table. Several mutants looked shocked and horrified – and angry. Particularly Gabriel. The ordinarily quiet boy was scowling, his green eyes burning beneath lowered blond eyebrows and his mouth set in a firm line.

"He's afraid of himself right now," I continued, swallowing hard. "He's afraid of what he's becoming." I looked up again, studying each face in turn. "What I want to do is to use all of you to show Julian that mutations won't turn him or anyone else into a monster. He's going to love you when he meets you, but he doesn't know that yet. As it is, I've barely gotten him used to the idea of myself being a centaur. After I give him a few rides on my back, he should feel more comfortable with things, I hope. But I'm only breaking the ice – begging your pardon, Bobby – and it'll be up to the rest of you to continue that process."

The tension in the air broke, and I felt everyone breathe a collective sigh of relief. The wariness and hurt in the eyes of the mutants had dissipated. How grateful I was that I'd chosen to address the problem head-on!

"Does he like music?" wondered Kitty.

"I wouldn't know, but surely he does," I replied.

"Maybe I could let him borrow something from my CD collection."

I smiled. "I'm sure he'd like that. It would also be the perfect way for me to introduce you."

"If Julian wants music, I can give him a concert," said Jay.

My jaw dropped before I could catch myself. Jay Gutherie was ordinarily withdrawn and silent – even more silent than Gabriel, which was saying a lot – but I should have known that the mention of music would bring the talented young man out of his shell.

"That would be fabulous. Did you want to bring your bass guitar, too?"

He scoffed and gave a roguish, sideways smile. " You kidding? I don't play anywhere without it."

"I could accompany you on violin, if you like," offered Alisha a little shyly. Something about the wistful longing her eyes when she looked at the red-winged mutant, accompanied by a slight pull in my Danger Sense, told me that there was more to her request than a simple desire to help Jay entertain Julian Rodriguez with music.

"I play classical piano," added Gabriel.

"I play drums, when I can keep my hands from phasing through the sticks," said Kitty, laughing.

"Ah've been practicin' mah trumpet," put in Rogue.

I giggled. "Alright, we'll have to set up a big concert and sell tickets at this rate! Not that it's a bad idea, mind you. I don't know whether it would be a strange instrument to add to an orchestra like this one or not, but I play the harp."

There was an immediate and enthusiastic round of invitations – and begging and pleading – for me to join them. I felt a deep warmth settle in my soul. I hadn't told any of the mutants that I could play the harp because I rarely played, now. Back in the days when my parents had been alive, my mother and father had taught me to play. The three of us would sit around the campfire, making beautiful music together beneath the Narnian stars. We would start with songs we knew, accompanied by singing and laughter; then we would trail into the most stunning and creative pieces that were plucked right out of the night wind. Our fingers danced across the strings, and our songs spoke of nature's beauties, of Aslan's creations, of the joy of life, of our hearts and souls.

It had been many years before I could even bring myself to play on occasion, because the memories that surfaced when my fingers gently coaxed music from the strings were too much for my broken heart to bear. Eventually came back to the harp because I'd found it comforting, at times, to remember the way things used to be – even though it was always, always painful.

"I'll just need to borrow a harp," I said. I didn't mention that my own harp had been buried with my mother all those years ago. From that day forward, I'd never had a harp to call my own. I'd always borrowed one.

Alisha's green eyes glowed with a speculative light. "We'll set you up with one, Vi."

I smiled. "Thank you so much, Alisha. So, we'll schedule a concert, then – or maybe two or three. Any other ideas?"

One supportive suggestion followed another. Before I knew it, dinner was over, and the mutants were still throwing out possibilities until Kitty decided to write them down.

Rogue looked up at me. "You'd better get goin', Vi," she drawled. "Julian's prolly been waitin' and starvin' for hours."

Laughing, I stood up. "He can't possibly starve, Marie. I made sure that his room is kept stocked with all kinds of snacks." Every pair of eyes abruptly locked on me, and I suddenly realized that it had been a mistake to reveal the goodies in Julian's room. I grinned, feeling mischievous. "And, of course, there are more snacks just like them in the pantry. If anyone dares steal from Julian's stash, there will be a price to pay. The centaur has spoken!"

I left the kitchen in a good mood. I stopped by the library long enough to pick up the books of fables and classic tales, which I'd been after earlier in the afternoon. Balancing the books and the tray full of food, I climbed the staircase and took the short trip down the hall which brought me to Julian's door. I softly knocked.

"It's me, Violar. Can I come in?"

There was no response. With a slight frown of worry, I shifted my burdens precariously to one arm, twisted the handle, and opened the door. I stepped inside – and froze in my tracks.

Jenna was clinging to the wall, her cat's claws buried deep in the plaster and black fur covering her forearms. Her shoes were off, and black fur had spread down her ankles and over her feet as her toe claws anchored her to the wall. A swift glance around the room revealed nothing else: Julian was nowhere to be seen.


	6. Trouble is a Teenager

Red heat rushed to my head.

"Jenna Newton!" I snapped, kicking the door shut so hard that the windows rattled. Her head whipped around, covered with black cat's fur and whiskers, and I glared at her, almost too furious for words. Then I moved to the table and set down my food tray and the books.

Jenna loosed her claws from the wall and dropped lightly to the floor with a ridiculously innocent smile. "What?"

I rounded on her. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm mad about! You deliberately disobeyed me – twice. I told you not to come here, and I told you not to show off your mutation. Where's Julian?"

A slithering sound in the carpet to my left caught my attention, and I swung my gaze around to find the boy sliding out from under the bed. I gasped and ran to him, falling to my knees as I scooped him into my arms and held him close. "Julian, are you alright? I'm here, everything's going to be just fine…"

To my shock, Julian was _chuckling._ I felt his shoulders shaking, then heard the low laughter near my ear. I jerked back and stared at him in surprise.

He grinned up at me, his dark eyes sparkling. "_Ci_, Jenna, you were right. She freaked out."

I grew a little dizzy, and a headache pulsed into my temples. The air hissed from my lungs, and I sank into a sitting position on the floor. I studied Julian, speechless. I didn't know this bright-eyed boy with the smile full of mischief, and I couldn't utter a word because I didn't know what to say to him.

"Told'ja she would," declared Jenna triumphantly. I turned my incredulous stare onto her as she skipped to the bed and bounced up to sit on it, grinning at me like a Cheshire cat. A long, lanky, troublesome black Cheshire cat.

Small arms threw themselves around my neck, and I slowly hugged Julian as my whirling thoughts began to straighten themselves out. A prank. This whole thing had been a prank. And it apparently had done wonders to break Julian out of his shell – far more quickly than I could have done on my own.

"So, er, I take it you're surviving all of this then, Julian." I cleared my throat.

The boy laughed and smirked up at me. "_Ci,_ but you're not. You look like you've seen a ghost!"

That did it. I pushed him out of my lap, then slowly climbed to my feet, crossed the room a little unsteadily, and collapsed in a comfy chair. I closed my eyes.

"You've got to be careful, children," I said wearily, leaning my head against the back of the chair. "I always assert that I'm a young centaur, but I'm almost 45 years old. At that age, humans have heart attacks. I feel rather close to one at the moment, and centaurs have two hearts, not just one."

Jenna laughed loudly, unrepentant. From Julian, I felt a hint of uncertainty. He didn't know whether I was joking or not. Frankly, neither did I.

"Just… give me a few minutes to recover, alright? You children can go back to whatever you were doing before I arrived."

They did. As if I weren't there, Jenna and Julian clambered onto the bed and sat across from each other while Jenna displayed her impressive sets of hand claws. Julian was utterly fascinated with them, and when I ventured to open my eyes, I found him gently stroking the glossy fur on her wrists.

"So if you turn into a cat, does that mean you get a tail, too?" Julian was asking.

"Nope. At least not yet. Dr. McCoy says I might grow one later, though."

"Do you want a tail?"

"I kind of like tails. Some people have tails. Kurt's is very cool because it's blue and he can pick things up with it, so it's kind of, like, a third arm or something. But some people say tails can be an awful bother, too, so I dunno."

Silence fell while Julian considered that. I glanced over and found him staring at Jenna's wrist in rapt fascination, stroking the black fur carefully. Suddenly he looked up at me. "Do you like having a tail, Violar?"

I lifted my head a little and pondered the question. "I do," I said finally. "But I hardly know any different, Julian. I was born with mine."

"Hmm." He went back to watching the way Jenna's sleek midnight fur parted under beneath his fingers. Then he looked up at the girl with an incredibly open expression of pure wonder. "You're soft."

That sent me to my feet. "Only on the outside, she is. Inside, she's hard as nails. Come on, Jenna, you've had your fun for the evening. Julian needs to eat dinner, and you need to go to bed soon. Let's go."

I punctuated my command with two sharp claps.

Jenna whined and pouted like the stubborn teenager she was, but I strode over and gripped her by the wrist. I wouldn't take no for an answer. Perhaps the strength of my grasp convinced her of that, because she slid off Julian's quilt without further protest and let me tow her to the door.

"Night, Julian. Nice meeting you," she said over her shoulder.

The boy remained seated, gazing at her with that same intense wonder in his brown eyes. "Nice meeting you too, Jenna. _Buenos noches_."

I opened the door, pulled Jenna through it and into the hallway, then closed the door firmly behind us. I dragged her a short distance down the hall, then spun around and leaned over her.

"Jenna Newton," I hissed through clenched teeth, "you're lucky the meeting went so well or I'd have taken you out and _kicked_ you like the errant foal you are. I've half a mind to kick you anyway. What were you thinking? What could have possibly possessed you to disobey my orders and go in there – and then show him your claws and everything?"

Jenna shrugged and rolled her eyes at me, annoyed. "It's not like I wasn't careful about it. I know what I'm doing. I just went in there and asked him if he liked cats, and he did, so I showed him. It wasn't a big deal."

I sighed harshly. "Jenna, it _was_ a big deal, because you deliberately rebelled against my orders."

A sudden growl escaped her, and she yanked her hand away from mine. "Who are you to order me around? You're not my mom!"

I stood perfectly still, my gaze locked with the furious green-eyed girl as we squared off in the hallway. I drew a deep breath, trying to keep my temper calm.

"The Professor put me in charge of Julian Rodriguez, Jenna. That means that you weren't just defying me, but also the Professor. Does that mean anything to you?"

"No, because keeping me out was _your_ idea, not his."

"It was, but that was my call to make, not yours. This shows that you have no trust in my judgment whatsoever. The meeting turned out well, and I'm grateful for that. But it could have been disastrous too, Jenna. You need to learn to listen."

She folded her arms defiantly across her chest. "Oh yeah? Why's that?"

"Because you're fourteen years old, and because you think you know everything. You'll make the worst mistakes when you think you know everything."

"Well I didn't make a mistake this time, did I." It wasn't a question.

I tightened my jaw at her cocky tone. "Jenna Newton," I warned in a low, dangerous tone, "you're trying the last of my patience. You didn't care enough about Julian's well-being to take my precautionary measures seriously. You are most concerned about your own well-being. Don't think it didn't cross my mind to introduce you to Julian a lot sooner, because it _did_, but you…" I closed my eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh. "It's _so _important that you hear me out, Jenna. I had to be _absolutely sure _that Julian was ready to meet you. When I first met him, he was scared to death of mutants. I managed to soothe a lot of his fears, but I didn't want to move too fast and risk undoing all the good I'd done for him. There was no _reason_ to take the risk, just like there was no _reason _for you to barge into Julian's room against my wishes."

Her small foot stomped down hard. "So what?" she challenged. "Who says you have to be right all the time?"

"Not me," I returned with equal ferocity. "But was your decision risky or not?"

"Who cares?" she demanded.

"Was it _necessarily_ risky, or not?"

She threw her arms into the air, exasperated. "It was fine!"

"Alright, if that's the way you want it," I growled, bending over until we were at equal eye level. My patience was at an end. "Jenna Newton, if you disobey me again, I don't care if you _are_ fourteen years old. I'll turn you over my knee and _spank_ you, and you can thank Aslan you're not a centaur foal or you'd be wearing my hoofprint stamped on your little hindquarters. Do I make myself clear?"

Jenna gawped at me, made a little noise of angry frustration in her throat, then turned and stomped off down the hall. I straightened up and folded my arms, watching her until she turned the corner. I could hear her tennis shoes slamming down one stair at a time.

With a deep sigh, I slowly turned and headed back to Julian's room. I groaned and rubbed a hand over my face as I walked. Jenna had been getting steadily more difficult. Thus far, I'd been indulgent – firm, but indulgent. It was long past time to put my hoof down – otherwise Jenna would have gotten worse. In any life, but particularly the life of a centaur or a mutant, chain of command was important to maintain. Discipline had to be enforced. Jenna needed to follow orders she didn't understand, particularly when there was no reason _not_ to follow them. Someday, her life – or the lives of her fellow mutants – could depend on it.

I opened the door and slid into Julian's room. I found the boy at the table, halfway through his enchilada. He looked anxiously at me and hastily gulped down a mouthful of food.

"Did Jenna get in trouble?"

His choice of a first question surprised me. I slowly closed the door. "Yes, she did."

Julian looked worried. "Was it because of me?"

I shook my head emphatically. "No, definitely not. I specifically told her to wait until I said you were ready to meet her, but she didn't want to listen."

I waited for a protest from him, but instead he nodded, accepting that. He went back to eating his enchilada. I stood there, marveling that things had gone better than I could have planned. Jenna's visit had done good things for the boy. If only she'd waited until I said the time was right… but thank Aslan that no harm had come of it.

After a moment, I crossed the room and sat down in another chair to join him. "How's the food?" I asked.

With his cheeks puffed like a squirrel's, Julian grinned at me. "Ish good!"

I laughed softly. "Don't talk with your mouth full, Julian. I know that's hard, but the trick is to take smaller bites so you can eat and have a polite conversation with someone at the same time."

He grinned at me. I grinned back. And I couldn't help thinking that Julian's teenage years just might be a lot less troublesome than Jenna's.


End file.
